


(More Than) Five Hundred Words About Five Last Men

by frogfarm



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Y: The Last Man
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, F/F, F/M, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if someone other than Yorick Brown were the last man? Five possible Buffyverse crossovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(More Than) Five Hundred Words About Five Last Men

**Author's Note:**

> Post-"Dirty Girls"/anywhere in Y:The Last Man canon.

> _No man can step into the same river twice, for the second time it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.  
>  \- Heraclitus_

 

He blames magic from the start: No doubt the fault of some amateur, attempting work beyond their station. His first encounter with the Knives of Artemis, where only 355's assistance ensures his escape with skin intact, leads him to consider yet another denizen of the Deeper Well, threatening to break free of its earthly bonds. Or perhaps this new reality is nothing of the kind, merely another alternate dimension created by some casual, careless mortal wish; one that could just as easily be put right if he could but find the proper amulet to destroy. This inexplicable nightmare satisfies every definition of apocalypse, and yet in the end his Slayer fell, like any girl.

"You grieve for her."

He wraps the threadbare duster around aching flesh, chill wind cutting to the bone. "For all of us."

"These pitiful creatures who followed the one called Victoria. They gave her their loyalty, and their lives." Sexless, empty eyes penetrate his soul. "Now they worship a being worthy of their zeal."

"Even still." Giles stands tall, looking down at the diminutive figure. "You are not the only power that remains in this world."

"I am Illyria." She dismisses him, turning to survey the blasted landscape. "I am all that is required."

* * *

The worst part is the same thing that bothers half the women, that there are no more men to talk to. Not that the age thing and vampire-human barrier weren't normally enough obstacle to overcome; add in lack of comfort with the whole feeling-sharing thing, and it's a recipe for emotional disaster. All that saves him from complete breakdown is the same thing as ever and always: The work.

"Dammit, Ampersand! I'm trying to rescue you!"

"Can you blame him?" Dr. Mann gratefully accepts the struggling package. "Who knows what they did to him in there?"

He shuts the door to the van, holding tight as Rose hits the gas. "Ignorance is bliss."

"I'm a research scientist, Angel. Believe me, I've experimented on my share of --"

"Good for you." He allows himself to briefly pet the wet and trembling monkey, who burrows further into the doctor's arms. "Let's never discuss it again."

355 slaps a fresh plasmapack into his hand. Tasteless, but it keeps him going. Angel's about to tear in and stops.

"I thought you said we ran out of pig."

"Ignorance is bliss." Her lip curls and she folds her arms, refusing to turn away from his guilty countenance. "And knowledge is power."

He meets her gaze as he bites down, seeing how she still flinches every time he shows his other face. Swallows hard, remembering how 145 had taunted and threatened him to the breaking point, using stakes and Slayer strength once attempts at drowning proved pointless.

"I never claimed to live up to my name."

* * *

"I totally predicted this." Buffy takes a dainty sip of espresso, grimacing at the unexpected gritty bitterness. "The minute I saw that picture, the second I knew you were alive, I said -- he's gonna have a harem."

"Kind of unavoidable." In his faded jeans and thick wool sweater, Spike looks like the William she always imagined, brought forward into the post-modern era. "Though I did try. For quite some time, I'll have you know."

"I'll bet you were just beating them off with a shovel." It sounds snider than she intended.

"You don't know the half of it." Despite the smile, the look on his face says she really doesn't want to. "Was touch and go for a while. Didn't think I stood a chance after the last angry mob."

"Who'd you piss off this time?"

"Group of mad female scientists. Literally -- got quite irate when I told 'em I wouldn't be of any use repopulating their brave new world."

"Wha -- oh." Buffy giggles. Spike nods, touching his nose.

"Cold dead seed."

* * *

"And that was just high school?" 355 is even more gorgeous in the soft sunset, stripped down to tank top and boxers, her hard features relaxed for the first time in Xander's memory. Copious quantities of scotch tend to do that to someone, no matter how badass. "I'm beginning to see why you kept cool this long under this much fire."

"Actually, my dating history alone would qualify as a tour of duty." He leans over to clink glasses.

"Whatever set this halfapocalypse in motion -- I'm just glad it hit the demons too."

"All the ones that counted as mammals, anyway." Xander looks pensive, glancing down the beach at Mann and Rose, snuggled on a towel. "The representative from Oden Tal didn't seem too broken up."

"Understandable." She rolls over, dreads hanging in her face, contemplating his single eye. "What about you? Going back with Dawn?"

"Haven't decided." He swirls the remaining alcohol, reaching out to brush her hair aside. "I have to admit -- you make a compelling argument."

"I'm sensing a but." Her smile turns wistful. "The kind that usually means another woman."

"Hardly a fair contest." He can't meet her gaze any longer. "The only woman I ever really loved is dead."

She grabs his chin, gently forcing him to look at her once more.

"I'm not."

* * *

355 grins through bloody teeth, fumbling for her last cartridge. "Still think we can hold out?"

"Stay down!" Hero snaps. The former Amazon reloads her bow, rising and firing in one graceful motion. From the resulting scream, her aim's much improved since Marrisville.

Andrew can't take his eyes off the dead woman on the floor. He can't remember if this one is Heather or Heidi.

And that makes it so much worse.

Because she died to save a worthless murderer. She took Alter's bullet, and now she's lying there instead of him.

He can feel 355 looking his way and it makes him want to crawl under a rock like it always has, always will, every time. He wants to say everything to her, starting with how sorry he is, but he'll inevitably make some pop culture reference she doesn't get. Hell, it's the only language he speaks. The language of a dead culture.

"It's not fair, is it?" Hero kneels beside him, startles him into looking directly into her eyes and now he's afraid to look away. Scarier than 355 and always will be, at least to him.

"No." He squeezes back tears. "It's not right that Xander and Timothy Dalton and Captain Archer are dead and I get to live. It sucks that most of my mad tech skills are useless in this po-mo Mad Max throwback world. That I get dizzy at the sight of blood, and the only thing --" He coughs, breathing heavily. "The only thing I ever managed to kill...was my best friend."

"Believe me, I know stories." Her voice is more gentle than he's ever heard it, almost inaudible in the chaos. "And yours isn't over yet."

He merely bows his head. All the pretty words have fled, leaving only the stark reality of things. No heroic glory for him, no song nor story; not even the dignity of a dramatic death.

"It doesn't matter what you did." Hero's bandaged hand finds his fragile bicep, squeezes down just shy of pain. "The only thing that counts...is what you do now."

He looks up again, expecting condemnation or quiet rage. But there is only something he never would have expected from anyone.

Understanding.

"Are you ready to be strong?"

**


End file.
